


What Happens on Coruscant Stays on Coruscant (mostly)

by Eridani, Kat2107



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben in cream and gold armour, Blink and you'll miss it, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Nonsense, Jedi!Ben, M/M, Smut, Tedious administration, accidental Batman/Bruce Wayne!Ben, assassination atempt, earthquake, no Snoke, outrageous breakfasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eridani/pseuds/Eridani, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a catastrophe Hux must decide how far he is willing to go for his people. While on Coruscant for negotiations he spends the night with a mysterious stranger. He doesn’t expect to suddenly be saddled with Leia Organa’s masked pet Jedi upon leaving and things only go downhill from there. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens on Coruscant Stays on Coruscant (mostly)

**Author's Note:**

> For pinch hitting reasons, this KBB fic was written with four hands.  
> It has been inspired by [ thatviciousvixen ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thatviciousvixen/pseuds/thatviciousvixen)’s fic, called [ A Boy Like You, A Place Like This ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6637099) because we wanted to imagine how General Hux and Ben Solo could have met, this was the starting point and we diverged a bit from there.
> 
> Art by the very talented and extremely gracious [Primaryconsumer](http://primaryconsumer.tumblr.com/)  
> With whom it has been a pleasure to work.
> 
> Our deepest gratitude to our beta [ pkabyssinian ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/pseuds/pkabyssinian)

When the news reached them, Hux stood on the _Finalizer’s_ bridge overseeing the destruction of a pirate base deep in the Unknown Regions. The alarm went unnoticed at first, somewhere down the list of notifications that scrolled over Mitaka’s screen, not a failure of Mitaka but rather the system that put combat related messages above civilian news.

“There has been an earthquake, Sir, on Whatever, I apologize, Redward.” Legend said the captain of the scouting vessel to discover the planet quipped: “Name it Redward or whatever.” The protocol droid had done exactly that, to Hux’s annoyance, who was left to deal with the fact that the central settlement in his sector kept being called “Whatever” out of pure spite.

But none of that was Mitaka’s fault either.

“Casualties?” Hux asked over his shoulder, his attention on the casualty list of the raid.

“There was apparently.... The epicenter is ten kilometers from Solovenain. It was a level 6.”

Dread settled in deep silence over the bridge.

Solovenain was one of the oldest settlements of the First Order and one of the largest. In almost thirty years, a city had risen from the assortment of barracks for a few displaced imperial families. An infantry academy, industry and many, many people.

“Set a course now!” Hux turned and marched out. “And set up a command center in meeting room 2.”

 

***

 

Four days later, he gathered four of his officers in the meeting room. Papers along with several datapads scattered across the oval table mixing into the chaos of half-eaten rations and cups of cold caf.

“Last reports said 8631 deaths and 20800 wounded, Sir.” Lieutenant Mitaka sat bent low over his own datapad, headset in his ear barely visible over the mussed up strands of his hair. He had followed Hux’s example and stripped down to his dress shirt.

On his face lay the same exhausted look as on his three fellows’ and Hux had no doubt his own face showed the purple shadowing which marred his delicate skin during situations of high stress.

“And here are the status of our medical stocks.” CMO Lona projected the numbers from her datapad. Where Mitaka looked exhausted, she seemed downright about to collapse. The amount of work she had knocked out in the last 36 hours was impressive and her coordination skills had already saved thousands of lives.

That did not stop, unfortunately, the numbers from blinking their sordid reality in the dimmed room.

“So it leaves us with a week, maximum 10 days of Bacta,” Hux quickly calculated.

“Yes, Sir. Less if the technicians manage to micro-calibrate the deep ground scanners to human and near-human lifeforms. For now, the shuttle scanners and those search animals they have on the planet do a good job, but I was promised they can get it done within the next few hours.” Chief Petty Officer Unamo had been the link between Phasma’s troop groundside and surveyed the technical aspects of the rescue operations.

“And they will. So we need more bacta. There is only one way to save the maximum of people.” Hux threw his datapad on the table, watched it slide amongst the mess and come to a halt millimeters away from a forgotten cup. He did not like this. He did not like this the slightest.

“General Tarkin will disapprove, Sir.” Mitaka felt the need to voice Hux’s concerns.

“I know, Lieutenant,” Hux pulled his booted feet from the chair where he had propped them a while ago, and turned to sit properly, “but I am in charge of the district and I will not let those people die because some Imperial relic in High Command will be displeased. They came to us to flee the disarray the New Republic left them to rot in, losing their trust now would be a political disaster.” With a sigh of resolve, Hux stood, pulled on his jacket and turned towards Mitaka.

“Contact the Republic. Send them the numbers, tell them how many children will die if they will not help. Be dramatic. Include pictures. And if they chose not to help… propaganda loves things like that. It’s a win-win situation.”

 

***

 

From his room at the Elite Hotel, Hux had a breathtaking view on Coruscant. She looked dazzling and shiny, potent and everlasting in the morning glow of Coruscant Prime. But Hux knew better.

 

The suite the representative of the New Republic had appointed to Hux corresponded with his high rank, yet he immediately despised the decadent hedonism the rooms carelessly displayed. Did they think him corruptible by mere comfort? Did they imagine Hux would revel in the silken sheets when so many worlds sank into disarray thanks to the Republic’s incompetency?

But if they were wasteful enough to spoil money on him, well, he would not deny himself the pleasure of a real breakfast. It had been ages since he had tasted real bread.

 

When Mitaka knocked softly at the door separating his room from the rest of the suite, Hux invited him to take advantage of the breakfast buffet offered by a Republic so generous with their tax money.

He very well knew the young Lieutenant’s soft spot for food and true to form, Mitaka sat down and attacked a mountain of sausages and eggs.

“I have here the information for today’s meeting.”

“We have two hours ahead of us, take your time with the breakfast. There is not much we can do here anyway, waiting for them.” Hux dragged on one of the slim cigars he had found waiting for him with the breakfast. It was one of his favorite blends, as had been the flowery scented smoked tea.

“We’ll have to be careful, they seem surprisingly well informed about us. About my tastes at least, I don’t know if you found anything that seemed personalized for you in your room, Lieutenant?”

Mitaka dropped his fork suddenly as if this specific piece of sausage was about to turn against him.

“But I don’t think they would sink so low as to poisoning us. I gather you can safely finish your dish…” Hux's lips pulled into a smirk.

Mitaka cast him a knowing glance and picked up his fork, “No, the room is nice and comfortable but nothing to make me think they had private information on me. The bathtub was really nice, though,” he added with a dreamy gaze, “ But after all, you are the General, maybe they are trying to placate you?” He said with a spark in his eyes expressing exactly how stupid he thought the attempt was.

After forking up the last bit of the eggs, Mitaka pushed the plate back and took his datapad.

“You will be delighted to learn that we are meeting with Senator Organa.”

“Senator Organa, nothing less…” Hux pondered.

“That’s a positive development, Sir. She hates the Empire and all that comes from it, but she is known to be more concerned with the people’s well-being than most senators.”

Hux huffed his disdain. “If she had been so concerned she would not have left the newborn Republic to its fate to breed with a criminal.”

“She will come with a small delegation. Two assistants the Senate sent, a doctor and an administrator, to assess our calculations. And hurm…. a Jedi Knight.” Mitaka stared at his datapad then slowly up at Hux while his shoulders climbed higher which each passing second of silence.

“A Jedi Knight? Are they scared that I am hiding a miniaturized Death Star in my pocket?” Hux’s opinion on Force users was no secret, he tended to voice it at every opportune moment, ever since the ‘New Jedi Order’ had stepped out of obscurity. Judging their younger history, they either combined far too much power in one person or they were brain-addled mystics, no matter which way one looked at it, there was little positive to say about them. “Hum..” gruffed Hux, “Maybe they want one of them to ensure that our intentions are “pure”.” Sarcasm dripped from Hux’s words.

“So, Organa, daughter of Anakin Skywalker, AKA Darth Vader,” Mitaka continued, skillfully stumbling past his superior’s annoyance, “married to a former smuggler, former Rebellion General, though they are rarely in the same place anymore. One son, who is said to be a spoiled brat, goes by Ben Solo, no known occupation. Organa is very popular, she is also a military strategist and will probably consider stretching a benevolent hand towards our population as a smart move….”

Mitaka droned on, his words becoming nothing more than background noise to Hux. The Lieutenant meticulously covered the profile and biographies of all the Republic attendees, their political leanings and likely stance on their case until Hux stood and cut him off. “Thank you, Lieutenant. The rest I think we will find out on-site.”

 

***

 

The hotel’s meeting room lay deserted when they arrived, the faux wood finish door locked. A well-calculated move to put them in the position of petitioners right from the beginning.

In the large windows that spanned the entire facade opposite the entrance their reflections stood patiently waiting, two First Order officers in black uniform, straight as rods, gloves and hats on. Not the pair of supplicants they were. And past that: Coruscant. A city stretching as far as the horizon in every direction. Whoever had chosen the location had chosen cleverly. The floor lay between the two air traffic levels and neither the upper nor the lower lane could chance a look at what must amount to treason for some. But there could be no charges, where there was no evidence.

The lift opening at the end of the corridor interrupted Hux’s musings with the arrival of the Republican delegation. At the front walked Senator Organa, a tiny woman in nondescript and colorless clothes. The rest of their group wore similarly bland colors, except what Hux could only assume to be the Jedi, Kylo Ren, a tall masked figure, clad in cream and gold at the back of the group.

When the Jedi walked past Hux, he turned slowly his head, and Hux did not falter under the faceless scrutiny. He kept his mind focused only on his opinion about the eccentricity of the golden leaves pattern on the smooth ivory of the mask. Jedi nonsense.

Their silent staring contest stopped when Senator Organa cleared her throat subtly.

 

They bargained for twelve hours. Twelve hours in a stuffy conference room with bureaucrats discussing over every little detail while Organa looked on, waiting like a snake poised to strike in the background, her pet Jedi standing silently next to her. Hux broke in the end, in a very calculated move, waiting until all of them were exhausted. Then he stood and commanded the room to silence with his sheer General persona.

“While I am glad to have added to the esteemed delegations amusement, we, unlike our respected Republican counterparts, do not have the luxury to engage in petty politics. I understand of course that it is not children of the Republic who are dying, but they are dying nonetheless and if this delegation merely plans to waste my time, with all respect, I have more important things to do. So decide and decide within the next ten minutes.”

The silence rang heavily in the overly warm air, only the Jedi dared tilt his head in a curious gesture. And while every single member of the Republican delegation stared at him, Organa sat down her datapad with utmost care and rose as well.

“Thank you for your presentations, Lieutenant Mitaka, General Hux. An emergency supply has been freed from the Republican reserves and will arrive within a week. Coruscant’s supplies alone are not enough, but should tide you over in addition to your own. These are prepared for transport to the spaceport as we speak and will arrive for loading within 24 hours. I am sure, Lieutenant Mitaka can work with the local authorities assure smooth procedures and I hope, General, we can trust that none of this will come back to bite us in the ass. Thank you, Gentlemen.”

“You cannot…,” one of her delegates spoke up, but Organa merely smiled.

“I just did. We will be in contact. General. It was my pleasure to finally meet you. Kor Sella, please organize the loading with the Lieutenant. Good Evening.”

Hux stared after her, unsure if he had just witnessed the most cunning evisceration of a bunch or power hungry vultures or a cold-hearted political strategy at play. Whatever just happened, now wasn't the time to try and dissect or understand it, but he grudgingly admitted to being impressed.

 

***

 

Coruscant, shimmering jewel of the Galactic Core, center of the universe, Axis of the Republic.

Well, no longer. Not after it had been ‘defiled' by the Empire. They had discarded their grand prize, shunned her majesty and turned her into a run-down backyard whore with too much makeup, desperately trying to hide the signs of the disease slowly eating her up.

Coruscant, jewel of the Empire…

The thoughts tasted bitter like the smoke that he dragged into his mouth with the harsh callousness of a spurned lover. He had wanted to see, had desperately wanted to visit Coruscant since he had been old enough to understand his mother’s grand tales.

Oh, on the surface the planet was still as beautiful, still as dazzling and radiant. A more than fitting backdrop for an illicit meeting between enemy conspirators while the Senate danced far away on their new crown jewel, Hosnian. Organa had chosen well and treated him with the respect befitting her status. At least she had been worthy of toppling the Empire, even if she had then let it slip through her fingers and left it for sub-par men to ruin.

But the first impression was faulty. It always was. Below the sparkling exterior lay decay, decadence, and debauchery. And while the dear Senator believed General Hux safely ensconced in the orderly microsphere of the gilded cage that was his hotel, he had gone in search for exactly that.

Hux, the General, as his men called him, had no way to fulfill his baser desires; a being of duty, born to serve those greater than him, or as it usually stood, those merely more powerful. He was surrounded by subordinates and no one of high enough rank to enter into a dalliance with.

Bren on the other hand, Bren was, as his father had liked to say, an ill-begotten whelp, littered by a cheap street whore.

With a smile, Hux leaned back against the cracked synth leather of the booth and took another deep drag of his tobacco. This was pleasure, he told himself, as he let his eyes wander leisurely over the crowd. As far as sinkholes went, this cantina was not the worst he had ever been to, the alcohol was good, the interior run down in just the right way to attract the more adventurous crowd.

Where the establishments on the top levels of Coruscant lured those with too much money, the farther down one went, the more truthful the entertainment became. Here, on the third level, pilots mingled with mercenaries and the high-class escorts had made way for prostitutes.

In a pinch, Hux decided, those would do. His eyes lingered on the thighs of a young Zabrak, barely hidden by the faux silk skirts that accentuated his warrior body’s slim lines. But it lacked the excitement of the hunt. And the hunt, the thrill of an unknown, had always been half the fun.

If Hux wanted someone just to fuck, he could have ordered them to his suite of rooms on board the Finalizer. The First Order recognized that its officers had needs, though Hux’s needs were impossible to meet there and it was…

His thoughts derailed by no conscious decision of his own, quenched by a sudden surge of hunger that had nothing to do with the tasty little morsel that the Zabrak was. Nor with the Twi’lek that had grabbed him into a tight embrace immediately dissolving into something that resembled dance only under the most innocuous circumstances. Then and there they were having sex with their clothes on, putting on a show for the cantina’s patrons.

Behind them, his face drawn into an amused grin at their antics, stood a man. As he moved around the dancers, a friendly hand on the Twi’lek’s shoulder, his body angled towards them with honest interest, words were exchanged, though Hux was too far away and the level of noise too deafening to make out anything but the companionable laughter that followed.

The newcomer towered over both the Zabrak and the Twi’lek in a peculiar mix of sheer physicality and the awkward drive to make himself smaller. That alone, with the width of his shoulders, was a feat. There was nothing pretty about him, with his enormous nose and his lips that were too wide for the lack of chin. If the nose were just a little less elongated and the mouth just a bit higher…

It was the whole of him that had Hux’s heart catch in his throat; the massive shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, the shining mop of dark hair that fell around his unusual face although he had already caught half of it in a bun at the back of his head.

He looked at once completely out of place and strangely at home, the opposite of pretty, yet stunningly beautiful. And, as if he felt the scrutiny upon him, he turned away from the dancers and his eyes met Hux’s.

His features didn’t exactly improve in full frontal view but it added a stunning dose of masculinity to his figure, a carefree aura as he slowly sauntered across the chafed faux wooden floor straight towards Hux. His left held a half-forgotten bottle with some unspeakable and very blue liquid and his face an expression of keen interest.

Hux had come here in search of something, elusive prey, not found on the _Finalizer_ , and suddenly he found himself in the focus of a predator himself.

“Good evening,” the stranger said with a wry smile and pointed over his shoulder toward the two patrons that now sat, locked in an embrace, at the bar, animatedly chatting with the keeper. “My friends say you are looking for someone.”

His voice melted over the words like some of the darkly sweet sauce they had been fed the day before. Velvet, Hux thought, or maybe suede.

It mattered not. He wanted it.

“I am sorry to inconvenience you, but your friends are mistaken. I have no intention whatsoever to pay for services. Though you surely don’t look like someone in need of money,” Hux said and sat a little straighter, a little more at attention, taking the man’s words as what they were meant: an invitation to play.

“We all look in need of money, or we wouldn’t be down here, instead of frolicking in the high rises above ground, drinking Naboo champagne from crystal tumblers, engaging in empty blather.” The delivery came with such sincerity that Hux couldn’t help the huff of laughter.

“You’re right, my friend, but still I am in no mood to pay for something I want to earn.”

“Not someone for the easy way, are you?” The strangers full lips pulled into a daring grin and he slipped into the booth with a certain awkward grace, a man used to moving in tight surroundings, but not quite comfortable with the dimensions of his body.

“I’d say I am not cheap, but that would lead this whole discussion ad absurdum,” Hux murmured, his gaze on the stranger, safe in his own anonymity and the lack of the notoriety that followed him everywhere in his own territories.

“No… I get you.” The stranger smiled and set his bottle on the table with learned care before he offered his right hand in greeting. “I’m Ben and I like to hunt, too.”

The skin under Hux palm was warm, dry callouses on all fingers like a pilot might have, or a dock worker.

“Dex,” he said and felt the corner of his mouth tilt up out of their own volition, tempted into a rare smile by a row of brilliant white teeth that dug into Ben, the stranger’s, lower lip. “And I am hungry…”

Full lips parted on a long slow exhale as the man’s hand twitched against Hux’s, a slide of skin on skin, innocuous in all its myriad promises of things that might happen. Or might not.

A stumble, two stumble of Hux’s heart in his throat woke him from a reverie he might have fallen into with the way the other man’s pupils blew wide. One stumble, two stumble, like something that just awoke.

The stranger spoke, a dark whisper above the soundscape of the cantina, meant for no one but the two of them. “We should eat.”

 

***

 

Ben knew the keeper and the keeper had a room. A neat little square with a double bed and a wobbly table, a tiny refresher off a door to the right. The exact opposite of fancy, but surprisingly clean. They made it through the door with little fanfare and a silent agreement to behave, wait for the secret signal, the snick of the lock. Between them lived the vastness of a black hole in the width of an arms length and the little sound was the last atom that tipped the mass balance.

They crashed into each other with mirroring groans, grabbing, pulling, tugging at hair and clothing that was too much all of a sudden.

“Fuck me,” Hux groaned and was lifted off the ground in one swift movement. One step ahead, one to the left. A dull thud as Ben’s shin connected with the bedpost. A hiss and he found himself lowered, weightlessly suspended in an impossible feat of gravity, gently onto the bed.

It smelled like home, cheap, chemically cleaned linen. The complete opposite of the mouth on his, forcing Hux’s lips apart with minimum persuasion and a maximum of hunger.

The same arms that had carried him now held him caged between the massive shoulders and a long leg, a thick thigh nudging against his crotch, rubbing through his pants in a maddening rhythm that threatened to pull him over the if he let his control slip for just one second.

With a growl, Hux grabbed the shirt that kept him from his grand prize, skin, and tugged, no care for finesse or grace.

“Off!” He grated and Ben pushed back, sat up to pull the offending garment over his head in a fluid movement, a high rising column of milk white skin and corded muscle that towered over Hux like the promise of someone strong enough to hold him down. Through the window the bar’s sign flickered restlessly, the blue-red-green finding a willing canvas on the pale planes of Ben’s body. The colorful display turned him into the facsimile of a distant nebula, a cradle of stars and the promise of what could be. A fine smattering of black hair dusted Ben’s chest and ran down towards and below his navel to vanish into rough pants.

It was then, with a faint blush of amusement, that Hux noted they were both still armed. The man above him seemed to notice it too.

“Oops,” he commented and made a face that at once turned him into an embarrassed adolescent.

Hux moved first, pulled the blaster out off his thigh holster and with fanfare showed the safety thumbed on. Ben did the same with a smile. A show of restraint and respect... Until he threw both their blasters with quick flicks of his wrists onto the table.

“You can’t just…” The protest died on Hux’s lips as Ben turned back and down, his broad hands suddenly under Hux shirt, the garment tugged out of his pants and shoved up towards his shoulders.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” was an inadequate answer, but Hux found he couldn’t care. Full lips tugged at his neck, pulled the sensitive skin in where teeth caught it, rolled it over the same hot tongue to send a fine electric current down Hux’s sternum straight to his cock.

At least the weapons hadn’t clattered to the ground. So maybe…

“Hey. Hey, beautiful.” Ben nudged him back, yanked an invisible chain that seemed to be centered on those lips, that grin as he moved down and closed sharp teeth around one of Hux’s nipples. Hux gave an unbidden cry, the sensation a sudden jolt through his nerves.

“So sensitive,” the man murmured against Hux’s skin and that murmur turned into a low purr when Hux tugged the band out of Ben’s hair and then dug his fingers in and pulled.

A nip against Hux’s skin was the consequence, but neither of them seemed to particular care for pain. Or perhaps they did.

The hands that held him pressed to the mattress slid down Hux’s sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Ben cast him a last grin and then he followed, never breaking eye contact as he let his tongue, pink and agile, draw a wet path over Hux sternum, his stomach, with a cheeky circle danced around his navel until finally Ben's hands dug into Hux's belt and fumbled apart the clasp, the buttons of his trousers and pulled them down.

“You,” Ben said, admiring the impressive tent in Hux’s underwear, “are not merely hungry, my friend. You are starving.” Leaning back, minimizing skin contact, he hooked his finger into the waistband of Hux’s black shorts and tugged them down. “Hrm. Nice!”

“I am glad, you approve. Now can we…?”

“This?” Ben asked and like a bad case of a holo-drama lolita trailed his finger along Hux’s cock. “Yes, I think we can.”

There was the tongue again, the bloody tongue and a strong, rough hand around sensitive flesh and blood red lips stretched obscenely and something in Hux’s brain fizzled and died like a faulty line that broke at the first stronger current.

“Fuck!” He hoped the walls were thick enough. He didn’t care at all. He didn’t care where his lover had gotten the lube, only that he heard it popping open and felt a slick warmth of a finger against his opening and then, finally, finally the stretch, the gentle burn as it breached him, broad and blunt and so much more than his own.

“Fuck,” he breathed and groaned in mourning when the lips around his cock vanished.

“All in due time.” Ben’s voice croaked, each word, each puff of breath whisking painfully over the overheated skin.

“Can’t you just stop talking and get on with it?”

Hux wanted to say more but then Ben twisted his finger in a slow glide and crooked it as if he knew exactly where… The blanket crinkled stiffly under Hux’s hands, crackled softly as he bunched the fabric between his fingers, grappling for purchase. “Keep going.”

“Yessir,” Hux thought he heard a low chuckle in the words, but Ben did as he said and added a second broad, blunt finger with a slow smooth slide. “Ok?”

Looking down the plane of his body Hux’s found a pair of dark eyes watching him intently, he might have thought with worry, had that thought not been absolutely ridiculous. “Very.”

Curling a calf around the man’s shoulders was the most natural thing to do, getting some leverage to move against those clever, clever fingers and into the sensations that were so much more satisfying than the cold, technical loneliness with which he usually tried to sate at least some of his hunger…

Ben twisted his fingers once more, crooked them with expert surety and Hux threw back his head with a cry, his thoughts scurrying off, back into the dark where he swore he had banned them before this evening. Not tonight. He needed this. Needed this reprieve as short as it may be, to return to his post and command more efficient and in control than before.

There was nothing he could do at that moment. Mitaka oversaw the logistics and beyond pacing the spaceport-

Ben repeated the move, nipping sharply at the sensitive crook of Hux's thigh.

“Hey, here, with me, alright, beautiful?”

Hux laughed, but nodded breathlessly, his wandering thoughts broken, drawn back and anchored in place by the fingers that slowly fucked him, stretched him with single-minded focus. To be watched like this, in the focus of this gaze, every reaction, every twist of his hips analyzed to maximum efficiency, the effect was breathtaking. Hux gave attention, he didn’t get it, he controlled, he didn’t…

Ben bent his head over his cock, to wrap his tongue around the pulsing flesh and draw a long, slow lick from base to crown and every thought of Hux’s came to a stuttering halt on a long moan.

“Yes,” he groaned and lifted his crotch for easier access.

“Yes?” It was hard to hear if Ben teased him or not.

“Fuck me.”

“Are you sure, you’re very…”

Hux jackknifed upwards, grabbed the bigger man’s hair and pulled him up, bringing their mouths together. “I said fuck me,” he snarled against the agile tongue that danced around his with a laugh.

“Wow. Aren’t you impatient?” Despite his words, Ben’s left jerked at his belt, fumbled it open with a lot less skill than he had Hux’s. He didn’t bother to undress or stop the slow, intense ministrations of his right hand inside Hux’s ass, the slow twist and push and pull. Not until the bottle of lube popped open again and he hitched Hux’s legs over his shoulders.

He leaned in with one of those smiles that seemed to transform his whole face into something that fit together instead of a collection of barely matching parts. Their faces stayed, though, close enough to kiss, yet just out of reach.

“Hello, beautiful.” The smile grew, a dazzling distraction to the blunt pressure against Hux ass, growing deeper when Ben’s eyes fell shut and his head dropped forward with a soft moan.

It hurt. Not the brutal painful sting of injury, more like a sharp burn of a stretch that had become unfamiliar. Hux made not one sound, forcing his body to take whatever his partner dished out - which was considerable.

Ben stopped with just the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle, his face dotted with sweat, drawing gasping breaths between gritted teeth.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, a statue of marble cut manliness in the colorful lights that shined through the window. “You sure you’ve done this before?”

“Yeah.” Hux’s ass clenched against to intrusion and yeah, he was stretched, definitely stretched, deliciously so and it took all the effort and control he could muster to breathe and will his muscles to give in. “It’s been a few.”

“Few what?” Ben rocked against him and huffed a breath as he bent forward, his hands settling on both sides of Hux’s head. “Months?”

“Years.” Reaching up to curl his hands in the luscious strands of Ben’s hair again felt like the most normal thing in the world, leverage to tug him closer for another kiss.

“Shit.” A single word breathed against his lips. “You could have told me.”

“Why, to spare your gentle sensibilities? I’m not the one who is trembling like a tender virgin.”

Without an answer, Ben pressed the rest of the way in.

Hux came up off the bed, the hand that had just gently cradled his lover’s head now digging fingernails into his shoulder and it was good. It fucking hurt, but the stretch, the sting, the sudden possession, the surge of electricity that slammed through his body and straight back down into Hux’s cock were everything he wanted.

Ben against him stilled with a growl, seated to the hilt in his ass and a grin tugging on his lips.

“You are a fucking asshole. You are breathtakingly beautiful, but you are kind of an asshole,” he breathed in lieu of sweet nothings and then he began to move.

 

***

 

The bar sign flickered still in red, blue and green when Hux awoke from a boneless slumber, resurfaced to the warmth of skin stretched along his body, soft breaths caressing the oversensitive skin where the man next to him had sucked a love bite onto his neck. Moving even a little hurt. Muscles, skin, everything oversensitized to the point of true pain. Walking might be outright adventurous.

T-minus twelve hours, his chrono supplied. Plenty of time to crawl out of bed, use the fresher and get back to the hotel to wait in his overly luxurious suite. If everything went according to plan, the freight should be fully loaded by early afternoon.

They had had two days of travel time to the core, they would need two days to go back, two days maximum on Coruscant. Lona would have stretched the resources available as far as possible, taking into account her most optimistic estimate of survivors. It left Hux with a one day buffer at the absolute minimum, four at the max.

The numbers were not great, but they were good, solid. Enough so that Hux turned slowly to the man asleep beside him.

The black hair curled in wild abandon around Ben’s face, the color of tree bark in winter snow, broken only by the lush red of his lips.

With a wince Hux twisted his body until they lay face to face, cursing his own impatience with a grin that belied the admonishments. The pain would fade in a day. Or two.

His fingers, much more slender than Ben’s, brushed back his hair to reveal his roughly hewn features. He had lost all awkwardness in sleep and kept only the peculiar beauty. The jutting nose and the truly magnificent mouth, that drew tight as Hux painted over it with his fingers and then morphed into a sleepy smile.

“Will you let me have you?” Hux whispered, his lips hovering a mere finger’s width from Ben’s.

The answer was a soft grumble, a slow movement.

Without opening his eyes, Ben turned onto his front, head cushioned on his hand, lips adorned by a lazy smile.

“Maybe?” he mumbled and stretched under the blanket, just enough to dislodge it from his shoulders.

It was as blatant an invitation as any and Hux took it, brushed his lips over the milk white skin revealed, up to the first strands of dark hair that coiled almost shyly around the long column of Ben’s neck. Corded muscles, Hux noticed, that fanned out to magnificently broad shoulders.

Sitting with a wince Hux pulled the blanket down, all the way to Ben’s thighs and revealed a back that was made to be admired. He did, with his hands as he slowly shaped the curve of Ben’s ribs, to the low bend of his lower back and up once more to the tight rounds of his ass.

Then once more, following his hands with his lips, to paint a slow trail down the line of his spine. To lick the salt, the remnants of their last fuck from his skin.

Hux shuddered at the memory of the sound Ben made when he came, the forlorn little groan that stuck in his throat as he had slammed into Hux one last time, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back. Had he been a statue, Hux would have called him Ecstasy. Under him, Ben shuddered too.

Hux's tongue danced slowly along the thin white line of a blaster burn that stretched half-forgotten along Ben’s shoulder blade and lower, over the knobs of his vertebrae, small kisses, soft licks, until he reached his iliac crest.

The shallow breaths of half sleep had long since given way for slow, deep inhales for both of them.

“Want me to suck you?” Hux asked and earned a lazy shake of the mop of dark hair.

Ben’s arm that didn’t cushion his head slid lazily off the bed and pointed toward the ground.

“Lube.”

“Want me to eat you out?” Hux asked but already angled for the small bottle. He saw another shake of Ben’s head only from the corner of his eyes. “You’re easy, my friend.”

“Keep complaining,” Ben mumbled and hoisted his massive body up until he rested comfortably on his elbows, “and I’ll rethink.”

Everything was easy at that moment, No violent need, just the slow dark burn of hunger that had not yet been fully sated. Hux coated his fingers and slid them with slow care between the cheeks of Ben’s ass. He almost missed the sharp gasp, he didn’t miss the quick jerk of Ben’s hips, the tightening of his muscles as Hux’s finger pushed into the tight heat. Ben’s head dropped forward, between his shoulders, a display of raw power tamed.

Hux took his sweet time, following the slow ripples that ran through the muscles of his partner’s back whenever he twisted his finger in a certain way, the way he gasped when Hux added a second, a third. They were in no hurry and Ben under him responded so beautifully to every movement. Especially the slow slide and twist deep inside him, that had him throw back his head and groan deep in his throat.

When Hux took him, it was slow, too. A leisurely slide into the hot velvet of Ben’s body, until they fitted together like two pieces meant for each other.

Hux’s lips rested at the side of Ben’s neck, cognizant of every shiver, every twitch of his lover.

“Yes?” He whispered.

“Yes,” Ben responded and rolled his hips back against Hux’s with a choked off sound. “So much yes.”

Hux moved with him in a slow slide that felt like the opposite of fucking, a gentle dance that carried them both higher with no strain but in the knowledge of the inevitable. Floating on the fragile sound of Ben’s gasps and low moans whenever Hux brushed over his most sensitive spot, Hux lost himself in the sensations of warm tight heat and the tense drumbeat of Ben’s pulse under his lips.

For a second Hux imagined that he could kill a man like this, tear open his jugular in a demonstration of ultimate power over another. He didn’t, of course. Instead, he guided the man, helpless for all his apparent physical strength, through his release and lost himself on the desperate crest of that wave.

 

When Hux disentangled himself, Ben didn’t stir. He slept like a mythical creature, a slumber that belonged to the righteous and those without crushing responsibilities. He had bunched the blanket in his arms and turned it into a replacement for Hux’s body, his hair tousled into a shimmering mess, undeterred by how naked - how vulnerable - he was.

Of all the pictures that Hux might have carried with him, secretly locked away in his mind to fade into the obscurity of fond memory, this might be the most beautiful. He allowed himself a last taste, a last tentative brush of lips over his lover’s forehead. A goodbye. A thank you.

Were he someone else, he might have entertained the hope of seeing the man again. But he wasn’t. Bren did not exist outside this room, a mirage for whom the low snick of the door was the death note.

 

Outside, Hux straightened, pulled back his shoulders with conscious effort and lifted his chin. At his thigh the blaster pistol sat with familiar ease, balancing the unfamiliar cut of the jacket.

He tried a first decisive step, only to be stopped by a sharply painful burn. A gasp and a wistful grin later, rubbed from his lips with the back of his hand, he tried again, pushed through the ache of muscles, through the marvelous burn in his ass and let it carry him forward, this new lightness, like a spring that had finally been allowed to uncoil.

By the time he slipped out the back door, nobody dared approach the cold man that carried murder in his eyes and the lives of billions on his shoulders.

 

***

 

Hours later Hux arrived at the spaceport, freshly showered and dressed once more in his impeccable uniform, to find a gold-and-cream Jedi waiting for him in front of his _Upsilon_ -class shuttle.

Mitaka had not returned to his suite of rooms that night and Hux had waited almost until the last possible minute over yet another disgustingly sumptuous breakfast for him to show up. He was not worried per se, but there were details Hux wanted hashed out before he left the young Lieutenant behind in unfamiliar surroundings to deal with a literal life or death assignment.

As it stood, Hux needed to find him at the spaceport. Dealing with Organa’s Force fed pet was the last thing on his agenda. Hux still pondered a way to avoid him, when the Jedi interrupted his idle musing of the ship and turned towards Hux, his arms uncrossing in the movement.

“I prefer the _lambda_ -class.” His voice resonated strangely, distorted by the mask.

Hux stared at him. This man, who had stood for hours watching Hux like a falcon would a mouse, finally opened his mouth to insult Hux’s shuttle. It was only the lingering afterglow of the night before that kept Hux from doing something rash. But with that warmth embedded in his chest, he could not push himself to anger.

“I would have never guessed that the aesthetic of space ships was part of Jedi training, especially considering your outfit.” Contempt, though, was always an option.

“Well, if we all wore black on black, how dull would space be?” The Jedi offered with another one of his strange head tilts. “But I guess your subordinates are grateful for the color you bring into their lives, General.” Hux could practically feel the man’s eyes slide up his face to his hair, though where Hux expected irony, the Jedi’s voice radiated playfulness.

At this point, Hux wanted nothing more than to be done with the New Republic and the Jedi nonsense, take his shuttle back to the _Finalizer_ , and leave behind on this decadent planet the memory of the Bren who let handsome strangers fuck him into oblivion. Anger rose.

“Do you have a real reason to be here? Or are you here only to delay me with meaningless talk?” Hux cut with his sharpest General tone and his most venomous glare.

The Jedi recoiled and seemed to shrink before he pulled himself to his considerable height and turned to face Hux.

“I am Kylo Ren,” he introduced himself, bending his tall frame in a curt nod, “Lieutenant Mitaka asks to be excused. At the moment, he and Kor Sella are in a holo-conference with Naboo about the logistics of the second delivery. Furthermore, we were unable to fit this shipment into your shuttle. The _Upsilon_ is not really built for goods transport. With Lieutenant Mitaka’s permission, Senator Organa provided a ship of adequate size.” Ren indicated an old Corellian freighter and Hux cursed Mitaka who had agreed to _that._ How this garbage could even fly was beyond his understanding. “I will escort you.”

Hux was still processing the reality of the pile of mismatched junk that was supposed to be their ‘freighter’ and question if Mitaka had truly agreed to this under anything but severe torture. It took him a moment to grasp the meaning of the Jedi’s last words.

“Excuse me, did you just say you’d escort me?”

“I’m your pilot,” the modulated voice stated matter of fact.

“You are… of course, you are. I hope you at least can prove what you just told me about my Lieutenant?”

In lieu of an answer, the Jedi handed him a small disposable holo-recorder and inclined his head. This might just be a clever trick to get him to board that death trap with this mystic and they relied on his unwillingness to make a scene. If that was the case then they were about to find out that Hux did not care about making a scene whatsoever, but he cared a great deal about the well-being of one of his men and about his mission. He let the Jedi stand where he stood and retreated into the meager privacy that a few steps aside provided.

A small part of him hoped for a trick and an excuse to not board. It was disappointed. The message was from Mitaka, appropriately contrite and using all the correct codewords that confirmed the Jedi’s information. And the toad-like monstrosity in the loading bay as their transport. Splendid.

“Well, Ren, everybody on board the Finalizer will be ecstatic to meet with a mighty Jedi, I am sure,” Hux said as he walked back, sauntering hampered by the soreness, not even a hot water shower could beat. “And while I do not need an ‘escort’, I certainly won’t launch myself into an endless debate to convince you, or your master, or whoever holds your leash of that fact. Loading this monstrosity has already cost us enough time and my people need me, so if you please…” He gestured exaggeratedly toward the decrepit freighter.

It was only once strapped in the cockpit, watching Kylo Ren take them out of the spaceport and into hyperspace with assurance, that Hux pondered how much fun the two days trip home would be, with a sulking Jedi next to him and no Mitaka to exchange knowing glances with.

 

***

 

The trip ended up being as dull as Hux expected. The Jedi avoided contact, barely leaving in the cockpit, to the point where Hux wondered if he even ate.

Hux did not particularly mind the lack of communication. As a General, he was used to being alone amongst a crowd of subordinates who would address him only if spoken to. And Galaxy knew, he had enough to do, even with the spotty communication of Hyperspace.

What bothered him was the unease radiating from Kylo Ren. Hux caught him several times as he set out to say something and every time the Jedi’s shoulders dropped and he turned away. The resulting tension was starting to get on Hux’s nerves.

The memory of the intimacy and wordless understanding he had shared with Ben only made it worse. For reasons Hux could not pinpoint, the juxtaposition hurt like a bleeding wound. Luckily, the soreness his ardent lover had gifted him with lasted the whole trip back. It anchored him in reality when his datapad lost connection again and outside was only the cold of the void and the endless stream of hyperspace.

When Hux got bored out of his skull, he started to redraw the path of Ben’s dark moles under his eyelids. Sometimes, for no particular reason, he clenched his ass and grinned to himself.

 

When they finally reached the end of the journey was also the moment when Hux decided that Kylo Ren was completely and utterly insane. “Of course, I can do a precision Hyperspace drop. We’ll come out in spitting distance of your _Finalizer_. Trust me, General.”

“Trust me,” Hux muttered through gritted teeth as he adjusted his uniform jacket, carefully avoiding to touch anything on the grime covered ship. He preferred to not wear his uniform and risk sullying it, but with the way things stood with this particular shipment and this heap of junk of a ship, he needed to present the best possible picture, no way around it.

“Hold on, Hux. We drop in 3.” Hux hurried into the cockpit. “...2.” He was not actually sure if the Jedi saw anything through his mask, but whatever, both hands firmly on the back of the seats Hux held his breath. “...1.”

The stars in the viewport seemed to vanish, only to reappear as their actual self. Small dots that hung in the silence of space, the single befitting canvas for the work of art that was the _Finalizer._

Hux breathed out slowly and already opened his mouth when something caught his attention.

“Somethings not right… the canons are….” He had not finished speaking when the first pair of ice blue bolts streaked towards them. Hux had no time to do anything but hold one when the first hit and Kylo Ren jerked the steering yoke violently to the left to avoid the second.

He found himself in Ren’s lap not a second later, caught by a pair of strong arms that had wrapped themselves around Hux’s middle in an absolutely inappropriate display of possessiveness.

“Let go,” he hissed, faced with the immovably blank surface of that damnable mask.

He needed to get Unamo on the coms, if Unamo was even still alive with Tarkin’s faction manning the cannons. Of course, it was more likely that Tarkin had put someone on a suicide mission to assume duty on the turbo laser command. It was no secret when Hux had planned to arrive and a shift was long enough to give them a secure window for action. Still, the sheer _gall_ to occupy command of Hux’s ship and then to try and take him out _with his own canons_ …!

He had no doubt his crew would soon enough subdue the traitors, but with Hux’s ship in the focus of those turbo lasers, soon enough could very be too late.

He just needed to get Unamo on the comms, to transmit his identifying codes, to transmit his identification codes…

All of this would be much easier if he were in his _Upsilon_ shuttle

“Shhhh.” The arm of the Jedi tightened around his waist, his face turned towards the _Finalizer_. “They are not many but they really want you dead. There is a welcoming committee in the docking bay...”

The next shot blazed past them, close enough to rock the ship. Hard.

“Are there even shields on this thing??” Hux was still trying to untangle himself from Ren.

“Sorry, General, we don’t have time for more,” Ren whispered in Hux’s ear, a touch of honest regret in his mechanical voice and then he unceremoniously dumped Hux into the copilot seat.

“There is another shot coming at us!” Hux yelled, still angling for the harness to strap himself in. This one was a point blank hit and, Hux glanced at the shield telemetry display, it would kill them.

His own ship. In his last moment overwhelming dread died and left behind only a strange sadness as he saw the _Finalizer_ hang in space, sharp and deadly and beautiful as always.

Then Ren extended his arm and the laser beam deviated from its deadly trajectory to harmlessly soar past them into space.

“How… how the kriff did you do that??” Hux tightened the harness over his shoulders, yelling to get heard over the roar of engines pushed to their limits by Ren’s piloting. Had he not been so relieved to be still alive, he would have been offended on behalf of his ship’s cannon.

“Jedi nonsense.” The smirk was audible. “Looks like you needed an escort after all, huh?”

“I know my cannons and I am not sure that, albeit impressive, your prowess will save us in the long term.” He was powerful, no doubt about it, but something about it bothered Hux. Too fickle. One moment majestic and sulking, the other one insolent and talkative. “Get us under the ship, so they cannot use them. I’ll open the ventral docking bay with my personal override codes and you can get us in. If you manage.”

Ren huffed in disdain. He gave energy to the thrusters, side-eyeing Hux, and with a mastery, most of the First Order’s pilots would envy, brought the freighter under the _Finalizer_ , evading another volley along the way. The ship’s engines didn’t sound too healthy by the time he piloted it into the hangar bay, but either Ren didn’t notice or he didn’t care. Something smelled of smoke.

As soon as they entered the controlled atmosphere, Hux unstrapped from his seat and picked up a fire extinguisher on his way to the back of the ship.

“I’m going to check our freight, we took a hit and we cannot afford to lose any of the Bacta.”

“What about the welcoming committee?” Ren unfolded his tall silhouette from the confined space of the pilot seat. Hux could not help but notice the awkward grace he was moving with, as if his solemn Jedi attire was a shell for something much different.

“Dispatch them.”

 

When Hux came down the ramp, blaster in hand, it was to a magnificent display of deadly efficiency. The so-called welcoming committee had invaded the small docking bay used by high-ranking officers, intending to take out whoever landed there. Kylo Ren did not have a blaster, but he had a double-bladed lightsaber that bathed the bay in a deep amethyst glow.

Against the dark polished durasteel and the black uniforms of his opponents, he was a blur of cream and gold, crimson and death. Blaster shots bounced off him, finding new targets. His blades cut through traitors with an efficiency that spoke not only of hours of training but also of a deep hunger. Kylo Ren enjoyed the fight, enjoyed the kills. His large body, awkward sometimes in rest, was honed for such graceful slaughter and Hux, his sexual hunger lurking still too close to the surface after his encounter with Ben, responded with a warm fire trickle of arousal washing through his veins.

A move brought Ren next to Hux.

“Little help, if you are not too busy? Not that I cannot do it alone, but don’t you want to get some for yourself?”

Hux was skilled at close combat but he had never experienced the level of coordination he had with the Jedi. They moved like a single unit, Ren’s lightsaber blocking blaster bolts meant for Hux, only to move aside at the last second to let Hux’s shots pass. Ren cutting through two opponents, insane enough to come near them, only for Hux to take out the third that came at the Jedi from his blind spot. They no longer _had_ any blind spots. Back to back, they were unstoppable.

And soon enough their last opponent was breathing his last.

 

***

 

While Ren was looking for someone alive enough to interrogate about the little coup, Hux went to open the bay’s door, releasing a flood of stormtroopers and a very angry Captain Phasma.

She considered the bodies scattered around the bay, the tall Jedi who was standing like a silent menace in the middle of it and hummed with appreciation. “It is good to know, Sir, that the New Republic is able to provide bodyguards as efficient as I would be.”

“Shining armor seems to be a requisite for the position, Phasma,” Hux said and graced her with one of his tight-lipped smiles. His battle glow faded slowly, leaving an intense weariness. “Unload the Bacta and send it to the Medbay. Dr. Lona will take care of the distribution planetside. One crate ruptured after we took a hit but we have enough to hold until Mitaka arrives with the rest. Detach ten of your troopers to escort me to the deck, I have a ship wide call to make. The rest assists with the unloading. We are on a schedule here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Lord Ren, with me, if you please?”

 

They headed to the bridge, Phasma’s troopers fanned behind them like a phalanx and before them people jumped out of the way. Hux knew how Ren looked when he wore his Jedi persona like this, with determination and silent menace, but contrary to Senator Organa, Hux did not rely on appearing frail and unassuming, elevated only by the theoretical concept of respect, given by others.

They walked next to each other as partners, two tall men, their feet hammering out the same rhythm on the polished floor, one cream and gold, one black and ginger; Hux with his stern General persona firmly in place and Kylo Ren with his extravagant faceless ivory and gold leaves mask.

When they arrived on the deck, hushed silence fell.

Hux felt their eyes on his back as he stood in front of the holo-recorder, spine ramrod straight, hands clasped in the small of his back.

“Soldiers of the First Order, as you should be aware as of this moment, the plot to destroy the shipment of Bacta meant to save the lives of the citizens of Solovenain has failed. As has the attempt on my life.

You may have heard that I am a traitor, collaborating with the New Republic. That I abandoned the First Order’s principles to run crying to the enemy.

One of the basic principles of the First Order is order! it is to not abandon citizens to personal whims and sell them out to further selfish, personal goals!

The citizens of Redward came to us several years ago, each of them willingly shunning a Republic that left them to perish because they were not important enough, rich enough or powerful enough.

They were recently hit by a natural catastrophe and it is our duty, our responsibility, to prove that we are better than the New Republic, to prove to the citizens of the First Order and the Galaxy that they matter. They did not come to us to be abandoned in time of need.

And if saving them means negotiating with the loathsome New Republic, so be it.

I went to negotiate.

I took the decision, as Administrator of the district, to ask the New Republic for help. And because of that, an attempt was made on the lives of thousands who will be saved with the cargo on that ship and on my life.

We are here to stand up for what we believe in, and what I believe in is Order and Justice.

I will not tolerate retrograde ideas on board my ship and I will fight those propagating them at High Command till my last breath.”

 

The stream cut at a signal from Hux and he was left standing there with his fingernails digging painful crescents into the palms of his hands, tiny pinpricks of pain to keep him from visibly shaking with anger.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and when he opened them, all the bridge was watching him with an intensity that warmed him to the core. Those people, his people, were those loyal to him and he knew that they would follow his lead, wherever he choose to take them.

Hux turned towards the Jedi who stood next to him like a silent statue with his eyes on Hux all throughout his speech.

“Lord Ren, with me please?”

 

Alone in the turbolift, Hux let himself sag against the wall. He desperately needed a shower. One of the Bacta tanks had ruptured and doused Hux as he had attempted to put out the cable fire in the storage bay. But they had made it. More people would live thanks to the supply they brought.

Where before the silence between them had been awkward, it now extended comfortably in the small space of the lift. So much so that Ren’s words when he spoke seemed like a natural extension of it than a disturbance.

“My mother must trust you and your honor a great deal to let me accompany you. She was right. You and she are much more alike than you think.” Ren’s voice was soft, barely a whisper.

“Your mother?” They arrived at Hux’s quarters and he automatically beckoned Kylo Ren to enter. Inside, Hux stood for a moment, stood and looked around at the familiar walls, the familiar interior that was the closest thing he had to a home. Ren’s footsteps behind him had fallen silent and for one moment Hux felt everything that had happened in the last week drop onto his shoulders like one giant, smothering weight. He was not tired exactly as much as weary, pushed to his immediate limits and unable to take more just yet.

“Senator Organa is my mother.” The way he said it, it sounded like something important, but Hux, at that moment, just couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Alright? Well, I guess I am honored that she trusts me to not harm you…” Hux passed his hands on his face, and in his hair, “Look, I really need a shower, if you don’t mind?”

“No, no, please do.” It was probably Hux’s tiredness but he would have sworn that Kylo’s voice sounded strained.

“Make yourself at home, have a drink,” Hux gestured to the kitchenette, “you can even remove your mask, I swear I won’t tell anybody.” With a lackluster smirk for his guest, Hux went to his bedroom to quickly undress.

Slipping into the shower stall, Hux wondered if the mysterious Jedi would follow his advice. He had no idea why the man was masked in the first place. Was it a Jedi thing? Or maybe to keep his identity secret, considering he was the son of a prominent Senator? But then why tell Hux? All that Hux knew was that after a few days in his company, and now that their coordinated fight had brought the animosity between them to an end, he really wanted to see his face. Know not just the Jedi, in as much he even knew the Jedi, but the man underneath. After all, he owed him his life, and the lives of his people.

 

The shower worked miracles and as Hux looked in the mirror, no longer sticky, and brought his hair in order, he looked like himself once more. Outside he heard Ren rummaging through his quarters. He wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door to shout:

“I’m almost done, can you get us a drink?”

“What do you want, beautiful?” a voice like dark velvet asked.

That voice. That endearment.

Hux stared at his reflexion in the mirror, skidding over the violet shadows of his tired face, over the greenish bruise on the side of his neck that Ben had sucked into his tender skin. Ben… What name had Mitaka mentioned for Organa’s son? Thoughts blurred into a red haze in his strained mind.

Hux wasted no time, he pulled his straight razor from its sheath on the sink and stormed out of his bathroom. The Jedi had poured them each a tumbler of the cheap standard issue Cognac the First Order handed out and stood, watching the reproductions on the walls of Hux’s living space, with his back toward the bathroom door. The ivory and gold mask lay on Hux’s desk, his hood pulled back to reveal the lush strands of a familiar black mane, the profile of a sharp nose.

 

Hux threw himself at Ren. Buried his hand in the hair he had liked so much to gain the leverage he needed to twist the larger man around until he had Ren backed against the wall, pinning him with a forearm to the throat and the tip of his razorblade on the vulnerable spot where his chin met his neck

 

 

“Care to explain yourself, Kylo Ren?” Hux’s growled with anger coloring his voice. This man, this man whom he had trusted with his need, this man whom he had fucked with a gentleness he didn’t know himself capable of, this man had known all along who he was. He played Hux like a harp, but for what purpose? To humiliate him? Was he on orders to whore for his mother’s political agenda?

“No, no, she would never! Hux, I…” Ben, Ren, the Jedi, whatever he was, swallowed heavily, Adam’s apple pressing against the razor. “That was me, just me. Ben, not Kylo…” His gaze swept over Hux’s face and stars might know what he hoped to find there with his soulful dark eyes. “Please let me explain!”

One of his hands grabbed Hux’s arm, the other wrapped around the fingers holding the razor. Hux noticed absently that Ren had removed his gloves. He did not let go.

“I expected an old fogy of a General at the meeting and you show up, and... You are really very perfect, with your ginger hair and your gorgeous lips,” Ben said, his gaze glued to Hux’s out “I wanted you. Yes. What do you want to hear? I wanted you for myself. Away from that room and those idiots.” The fight left his body and he dropped his hands again, his voice only a whisper.

“I followed you, from the Elite. Among everything else, it was also a security matter. Although I didn’t think the great General Hux would expose himself like this just to get a girl..”

Hux huffed and pushed away from the wall and Ben. “If I had needed a girl I would have ordered one, not gone to the dodgy area of Coruscant.” He leaned against his desk and set the razor next to the Jedi mask. Against the wall, Ben released a slow breath.

“I know that now,” he said tentatively. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to since you arrived at the spaceport. But I didn’t know how you’d take it and I had a bad feeling about the mission…” For the first time, he looked away from Hux, down to the floor. His fingers curled into his robe and when he looked up again, his gaze was filtered by his long dark lashes and the tousled heap of his hair. He looked about fifteen years younger, not the hungry, sexualized young man from Coruscant and not the ceremonious, imposing Jedi. Just an endearingly sheepish idiot.

“You had a bad feeling about the mission? How about you told me?…”

“Would you have listened?” Ben tilted his head, a familiar gesture by now.

“I wouldn’t have outright dismissed it. Not out of spite. I am a General, not a teenager.”

Hux considered Ben for a long moment, arms crossed over his bare chest. The towel on his hips had started to slip, held in place by the edge of the desk but he would rather expose himself than awkwardly correct it now. The Jedi had seen it all already anyway.

On the other side of Hux’s scrutiny, Ben started to squirm. In Hux’s mind, the fierce Jedi he had fought with, the skilled lover he had bedded, and this awkward young man he was pining with his gaze, all three figures, slowly coalesced into one multifaceted being. Someone holding a tremendous power both in mind and body, grown up under the spotlights of the New Republic, rumors and judgment that could not be farther from the actual person. Someone whose body had slotted against Hux’s like the bolt of his sniper rifle into the receiver.

Hux made up his mind.

“Does your mother know?”

Ben snorted, “I’m a little too old to talk my mom about my illicit affairs, don’t you think? No, she only asked me to escort you, and the shipment to make sure it arrived safely.” His eyes softened as he added with a shy smile, ”Not that I wouldn’t have found a way to do it anyways...”

“So, what now?”

Hurt didn’t just dissolve, like ice, no matter how much you crushed it, it still was there. But like ice, it could thaw.

Ben looked down, breathtakingly beautiful with his pale face framed by his black hair and the golden high neck, his gorgeous mouth twisting with uncertainty.

“Now? You still are an asshole. And a bit terrifying.” He pulled himself straight and bore his thoughtful gaze into Hux’s, “I can put my mask back on, and become the Jedi again. We can go back to being allies and I will go down to this planet, find those still alive and lift houses and save people because that is what I do when I am not Leia Organa’s useless son. And then I will leave when the next transport arrives and…” He rolled his eyes and the adult became a juvenile for a second, “...my ship flies again.“.

His eyes wandered to the mask on the table, to the razor, then up to Hux’s face. The towel stopped slipping. Ben smiled.

“Or we could…,”

“You will have to work, to earn my trust again, Ren.”

“Oh believe me,” Ben said and pushed away from the wall, sauntering the few steps only to stop at the invisible border that marked Hux’s personal space. “I will.” Confident. Sensual. Beautiful.

Hux pushed away from the table, towel be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> Ben’s Jedi outfit is the one of the [ Jedi Temple Guards ](https://www.google.fr/search?q=jedi+guard+temple&client=firefox-b&biw=1280&bih=721&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwipg5az9_TMAhUC2BoKHX8cBr0Q_AUIBygB), except that his saber is purple, because he’s a bit grey. 
> 
> Any ressemblance with a known vigilante is purely fortuitous.Or, as our beloved beta,[ pkabyssinian ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/pseuds/pkabyssinian)pointed out, we made, without even realising it, a Bruce Wayne/Batman out of Ben Solo/Kylo Ren….
> 
> Our deepest thanks to [CyanideBreathmint ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideBreathmint/pseuds/CyanideBreathmint) for being the gun metaphor accuracy consultant.
> 
> You can find us on tumblr: [ eridaniepsilon ](http://eridaniepsilon.tumblr.com/) and [ kat2107 ](http://kat2107.tumblr.com/)


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